Abstract Refers to ideas or concepts; they have no physical
referents. They are fine when used for Main Ideas of a paragraph or
Thesis.

[Stop
right here and reread that definition. Many readers will find it both
vague and boring. Even if you find it interesting, it may be hard to pin
down the meaning. To make the meaning of this abstract language clearer,
we need some examples.]

Examples
of abstract terms include love, success, freedom, good, moral,
democracy, and any -ism (chauvinism, Communism, feminism, racism,
sexism). These terms are fairly common and familiar, and because we
recognize them we may imagine that we understand themóbut we really
can't, because the meanings won't stay still.

Take love as
an example. You've heard and used that word since you were three or four
years old. Does it mean to you now what it meant to you when you were
five? when you were ten? when you were fourteen (!)? I'm sure you'll
share my certainty that the word changes meaning when we marry, when we
divorce, when we have children, when we look back at lost parents or
spouses or children. The word stays the same, but the meaning keeps
changing.

If I say,
"love is good," you'll probably assume that you understand, and be
inclined to agree with me. You may change your mind, though, if you
realize I mean that "prostitution should be legalized" [heck, love is
good!].

How about freedom?
The word is familiar enough, but when I say, "I want freedom," what am I
talking about? divorce? self-employment? summer vacation? paid-off
debts? my own car? looser pants? The meaning of freedom won't
stay still. Look back at the other examples I gave you, and you'll see
the same sorts of problems.

Does this
mean we shouldn't use abstract terms? Noówe need abstract terms. We need
to talk about ideas and concepts, and we need terms that represent them.
But we must understand how imprecise their meanings are, how easily they
can be differently understood, and how tiring and boring long chains of
abstract terms can be. Abstract terms are useful and necessary when we
want to name ideas (as we do in thesis statements and some paragraph
topic sentences), but they're not likely to make points clear or
interesting by themselves.

Concrete
Refer
to objects or events that are available to the senses. They can be:
Seen, Hear, Felt, Touched, Smelled.
This is directly opposite to abstract terms, which name things
that are not available to the senses.] Examples of
concrete terms include spoon, table, velvet eye patch, nose ring,
sinus mask, green, hot, walking. Because these terms refer to
objects or events we can see or hear or feel or taste or smell, their
meanings are pretty stable. If you ask me what I mean by the word spoon,
I can pick up a spoon and show it to you. [I can't pick up a freedom and
show it to you, or point to a small democracy crawling along a
window sill. I can measure sand and oxygen by weight and volume, but I
can't collect a pound of responsibility or a liter of moral
outrage.]

While
abstract terms like love change meaning with time and
circumstances, concrete terms like spoon stay pretty much the
same. Spoon and hot and puppy mean pretty much the
same to you now as they did when you were four.

You may
think you understand and agree with me when I say, "We all want
success." But surely we don't all want the same things. Success means
different things to each of us, and you can't be sure of what I mean by
that abstract term. On the other hand, if I say "I want a gold Rolex on
my wrist and a Mercedes in my driveway," you know exactly what I mean
(and you know whether you want the same things or different things). Can
you see that concrete terms are clearer and more interesting than
abstract terms?

If you
were a politician, you might prefer abstract terms to concrete terms.
"We'll direct all our considerable resources to satisfying the needs of
our constituents" sounds much better than "I'll spend $10 million of
your taxes on a new highway that will help my biggest campaign
contributor." But your goal as a writer is not to hide your real
meanings, but to make them clear, so you'll work to use fewer abstract
terms and more concrete terms.

General and Specific

General
terms and specific terms are not opposites, as abstract and concrete
terms are; instead, they are the different ends of a range of terms.General
terms refer to groups; specific terms refer to
individualsóbut there's room in between. Let's look at an example.

Furniture is
a general term; it includes within it many different items. If I ask you
to form an image of furniture, it won't be easy to do. Do you see a
department store display room? a dining room? an office? Even if you can
produce a distinct image in your mind, how likely is it that another
reader will form a very similar image? Furniture is a concrete term (it
refers to something we can see and feel), but its meaning is still hard
to pin down, because the group is so large. Do you have positive or
negative feelings toward furniture? Again, it's hard to develop
much of a response, because the group represented by this general term
is just too large.

We can
make the group smaller with the less general term, chair. This is
still pretty general (that is, it still refers to a group rather than an
individual), but it's easier to picture a chair than it is to picture furniture.

Shift next
to rocking chair. Now the image is getting clearer, and it's
easier to form an attitude toward the thing. The images we form are
likely to be fairly similar, and we're all likely to have some similar
associations (comfort, relaxation, calm), so this less general or more
specific term communicates more clearly than the more general or less
specific terms before it.

We can
become more and more specific. It can be a La-Z-Boy rocker-recliner.
It can be a green velvet La-Z-Boy rocker recliner. It can be a lime
green velvet La-Z-Boy rocker recliner with a cigarette burn on the left
arm and a crushed jelly doughnut pressed into the back edge of the seat
cushion.By the time we get to the last description, we have surely
reached the individual, a single chair. Note how easy it is to visualize
this chair, and how much attitude we can form about it.

The more
you rely on general terms, the more your writing is likely to be vague
and dull. As your language becomes more specific, though, your meanings
become clearer and your writing becomes more interesting.

Does this
mean you have to cram your writing with loads of detailed description?
No. First, you don't always need modifiers to identify an individual: Bill
Clinton and Mother Teresa are specifics; so are Bob's
Camaro and the wart on Zelda's chin. Second, not everything
needs to be individual: sometimes we need to know that Fred sat in a
chair, but we don't care what the chair looked like.

Summing Up

If you
think back to what you've just read, chances are you'll most easily
remember and most certainly understand the gold Rolex, the Mercedes, and
the lime green La-Z-Boy rocker-recliner. Their meanings are clear and
they bring images with them (we more easily recall things that are
linked with a sense impression, which is why it's easier to remember
learning how to ride a bike or swim than it is to remember learning
about the causes of the Civil War).

We
experience the world first and most vividly through our senses. From the
beginning, we sense hot, cold, soft, rough, loud. Our early words are
all concrete: nose, hand, ear, cup, Mommy. We teach concrete terms:
"Where's baby's mouth?" "Where's baby's foot?"ónot, "Where's baby's
democracy?" Why is it that we turn to abstractions and generalizations
when we write?

I think
part of it is that we're trying to offer ideas or conclusions. We've
worked hard for them, we're proud of them, they're what we want to
share. After Mary tells you that you're her best friend, you hear her
tell Margaret that she really hates you. Mrs. Warner promises to pay you
extra for raking her lawn after cutting it, but when you're finished she
says it should be part of the original price, and she won't give you the
promised money. Your dad promises to pick you up at four o'clock, but
leaves you standing like a fool on the corner until after six. Your boss
promises you a promotion, then gives it instead to his boss's nephew.
From these and more specific experiences, you learn that you can't
always trust everybody. Do you tell your child those stories? More
probably you just tell your child, "You can't always trust everybody."

It took a
lot of concrete, specific experiences to teach you that lesson, but you
try to pass it on with a few general words. You may think you're doing
it right, giving your child the lesson without the hurt you went
through. But the hurts teach the lesson, not the general terms. "You
can't always trust everybody" may be a fine main idea for an essay or
paragraph, and it may be all that you want your child or your reader to
graspóbut if you want to make that lesson clear, you'll have to give
your child or your reader the concrete, specific experiences

Abstract:
Sally and her family enjoyed a relaxing fun filled day at the beach.

Concrete:
Sally's family brought lot of snacks to the beach, swam for hours, and
made sand castles in the warm sunshine

Abstract:
Everyone loves Mary; she is very outgoing and friendly.

Concrete:
At the party Mary talked to just about everybody there, and offered to
help the host clean up after it was over.

Abstract:
My cousin is really successful, and has a great attitude which why I enjoy
his company and advise.

Concrete:
Jake, my older cousin, works for a local law firm as a paralegal. He
helped me with my court appearance for a parking ticket, but warned me
that the best way to avoid being brought to court is to obey the law.

Abstract:
My best friend Eugene enjoys letting loose and having fun

Concrete:
Last Friday Eugene and I went to Great Adventure Amusement Park and went
on about 20 different rides. We

Abstract:
I love Ann because not only is she beautiful both inside and outside, but
because she really cares about other people.

Concrete:
Because of her sandy blond long straight hair and silky smooth complexion,
every where Jackie goes heads turn. However, she says, "looks are not
important; it is how you live your life that counts." She means it
because twice a week she volunteers at our local senior citizen's home to
read to elderly people.

Abstract:
It was a huge and frightening dog

Concrete:
This monstrous German Shepherd looked like he weighted about 75 pounds,
and his teeth were bared for action.